


Parent Group

by azriona



Series: Hearts [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, John-centric, Kid Fic, M/M, Omega Verse, Single Parents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-27
Updated: 2013-02-27
Packaged: 2017-12-03 19:15:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/701721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/azriona/pseuds/azriona
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John goes through the first rite of passage for a single dad raising a newborn: the first coffee-house meeting with his local Parent Group.  A one-shot in the Heart ‘Verse, but should stand well enough on its own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Parent Group

**Author's Note:**

> Much thanks to earlgreytea68 for the beta. I know, I said Heart2 would be coming after the New Year, and I’m very sorry for the delay. I want to get a bit ahead on Heart3 before I start posting, because I have a habit of changing things as I go, and I want to make sure I don’t need to include vital information in Heart2 to set up what’ll happen in Heart3! Give me about another month, and I should be more comfortable. 
> 
> This is actually one of the outtakes from Heart2 – it just doesn’t quite work in the overall story, but I think it stands well enough on its own. It’s straight out of my own experience with Mommy Groups – all of which were fantastic! Hopefully this little snippet of John’s life before Sherlock’s return will make up for my inability to stick to a deadline (however arbitrary).

_Hello, new mums and dads, welcome to the Westminster Parent Playgroup. We meet once or twice a week, primarily in the Marylebonne/St Johns Woods area in London, and we're open to all omega or beta mums and dads. (Alphas, feel free to join our sister group in nearby Kensington.) Hope to see you soon!_

John would have liked a chance to take a breath before plunging into the coffee shop, but it was too cold to wait very long outside. It wasn't that he worried about Emily; she was warm enough, wrapped up in her fuzziest pink playsuit, fast asleep in the carrier strapped to his chest. But it was bitingly cold outside, and John hadn't thought to put his coat on before strapping on Emily, so he couldn't close it properly. The wind whistled down the back of his neck, and the inside of the shop looked invitingly warm. 

_Hang it_ , he thought, and went inside. 

He found the group near the back of the shop, where they were a bit more protected from the continual cold gusts as the door opened and closed for new customers. Five women and two men, all with children under a year. They were laughing about something, and the conversation was clearly that of a tight-knit group of people. For a moment, John hesitated, and thought about just turning around and going back home. But Mrs Hudson had been so pleased when he'd set out. 

"Do you good to meet some people, make some friends," she clucked at him, very much the mother hen, and she straightened Emily's hat and patted him on the shoulder. 

If he came back only twenty minutes after having left - maybe he could just go into a bookshop instead. Oxford Street wasn't so far, he could pop into John Lewis. Or Marks and Sparks, he'd been craving those chocolate shortbreads... 

"Hullo!" 

John blinked, and realized that the group of mums and dads were all looking expectantly at him. 

"John, right?" asked the woman closest to him. She was pretty, blonde and bright-eyed, and for a brief moment, John thought of Mary. She held a baby about twice Emily’s size on her shoulder, and her hand never stopped rubbing circles on his back. “I’m Polly, I organized the meetup and I thought I recognized you from your profile pic?” 

“Er, yes,” said John. “I’m John. Sorry.” 

“Don’t be shy,” said Polly. “Come on, sit down. Is this your first time out?” 

“Other than the shopping, yeah,” said John. He maneuvered his way through the overstuffed chairs and side tables and found a place to sit at the end of one of the couches. 

“First time’s always the hardest,” said one of the men. He reached over his daughter, sitting on his lap and chewing on a hard biscuit, to shake John’s hand. “Thomas. This is Hannah, she’s six months.” 

“Hi,” said John, staring at Hannah. “They get that big?” 

Thomas laughed. “Hannah’s a monster. I don’t know how; her mum’s the tiniest thing you ever saw. I thought I’d split in two pushing her out.” 

John shrugged off his coat, and lifted the blanket covering Emily’s face. She was still asleep. 

“Oh, she’s little,” cooed Polly. “What’s her name?” 

“Emily. Six weeks and two days.” 

Polly sighed. “I remember counting in weeks.” 

“No, you don’t,” said another woman. “You _want_ to remember counting in weeks, but we were all walking zombies the first three months.” 

“Christ, I’m only half done?” asked John, and got the laugh he was expecting. 

“I _do_ remember, I wrote it all down,” Polly insisted. She turned to John. “I’ve got a mummy blog. It’s fantastic for remembering every bit of Jack’s first year. You should try blogging Emily’s first year, it’s really good.” 

John hesitated. “I…I had a blog. Have. It’s kind of difficult to write anything these days.” 

“Oh, really?” asked Polly eagerly. “I love the daddy blogs, and it’s so hard to find a good one.” 

“Not a daddy blog.” 

“But I’m sure Emily will feature. What did you write about before she was born?” 

“Nothing really worth mentioning,” said John, almost desperate. He began to regret even admitting to the blog, which had lain dormant since Sherlock’s death. “Just…things we did. I did. It’s not important.” 

“It’s all important,” said Polly, waving her hand. “Especially if the ‘we’ is you and your alpha. Does Emily look like him? Or her, of course.” 

John felt like he was sinking. “Not quite.” 

“You should let him take care of her for a bit, writing it down is so very important. You can read my blog, if you like, to give you ideas. Here, I’ve got cards with the address—” 

“Pay up,” said the second man, stretching out his hand to one of the women. 

“Bloody hell,” sighed the woman, and smacked a fiver in his palm. 

“Percy, did you _bet_ on me talking about my blog?” demanded Polly. 

“Talking, no. Handing out the address, yes. Not even ten minutes,” said Percy smugly. “Come on, John, I’ll buy you a coffee with my winnings.” 

He stood up and reached out to help John to his feet. John grabbed the card from Polly and smiled at her apologetically. Polly rolled her eyes, and shot Percy a fond look. 

“Sorry about that,” said Percy, once they were in line. “Look, I didn’t want to say anything where they could hear. I used to read your blog.” 

John’s breath caught. He put his hand on Emily’s back, almost instinctively, and looked down at her, not trusting himself to look anywhere else. She was still asleep, breathing evenly, the dark strands of hair on her head already beginning to curl. 

“I’m sorry,” Percy added. “I’m really, really sorry. I don’t – I don’t even know what to say, but I wanted you to know that I know who you are.” 

John swallowed. “Yeah. Thanks.” He glanced up at the group. “Do you think they—” 

“The yummy mummies? No. You’re right about that, your blog wasn’t ever on their radar. Thomas might have read it, but if he figures it out, he’s a good bloke. He won’t say anything.” 

John nodded, and pressed the side of his nose against Emily’s head while Percy placed his drink order. He breathed in her scent to steady him. Talcum powder, a bit of wet, lotion, and something else that wasn’t quite him and wasn’t quite Sherlock. 

“John? Drink?” 

“Tea, decaf, milk, no sugar,” said John automatically. He chuckled. “Nice to drink it without sugar again. Couldn’t stand it without the whole pregnancy.” 

“Me neither,” confessed Percy. “And cucumbers. Christ, I’ve never eaten so many cucumbers in my entire life.” 

“Cucumbers?” 

“Two a day, every day.” 

“Raw?” 

“Or cooked. Didn’t even know you could _cook_ a cucumber.” 

“Why would you _want_ to cook a cucumber?” 

“I’ve eaten them and I can’t tell you. But I never want to eat another cucumber again.” 

John laughed as the barista called his name, holding his tea aloft. Percy reached over to retrieve it. He glanced down at Emily as he handed it over. 

“Six weeks, you said?” 

“Yeah.” John watched as Percy did the maths, and decided to take pity on him. “He didn’t know. Neither of us did.” 

“Not that,” said Percy. “Just – you’re lucky.” 

John went still. He wasn’t sure what to make of Percy’s statement. 

“Not losing her, I mean. I had a miscarriage, before Trevor. It was – well, I wouldn’t wish it on anyone. Your Emily, she’s a real miracle.” 

_One more miracle, Sherlock, for me._

John closed his eyes. No, he thought. Wrong miracle, Sherlock, damn you. 

Emily sighed against his chest, and she pressed against him, snuffling. John’s heart responded. 

“Yeah,” he said, opening his eyes, and looking down at Emily again. “Yeah, she is.”


End file.
